Concrete Angel
by Aquaqua
Summary: After abusing Keroro more severely than usual, Giroro reveals his darkest secret to Natsumi. The suffering of him and the two most important people in his life. Too much story to count as a songfic, so half and half. Half songfic and half oneshot.


Year: 2010

"KERORO! YOU IDIOT!" Giroro threw Keroro out the window. No one knew why he was so touchy. It was the day all of them came back from holidays visiting their families.

Keroro had only said, "Hey, Giroro, how's your sister?" and it set him off.

"Giroro, what's wrong?" Natsumi asked.

"Yeah, Giroro-gocho? What's your problem?" Keroro asked.

He sighed, and said, "You won't understand." He left the room.

"Giroro, wait!" Natsumi cried. She ran after him.

She searched until she finally found him outside his tent.

"What's your problem?" Giroro jumped at the voice behind him. "You beat up the stupid frog, and you won't give any explanation for it! I mean, not that I'm objecting, but why?"

Giroro took a deep breath and said, "I thought he, of all people would know. He was at her funeral."

"Who? Your sister's?"

He nodded. "She would've been your age, right now. I hate them…" Giroro muttered.

"Who?"

"My parents."

"Why?"

Suddenly, the small radio turned to a song from the Americas. 'Concrete Angel' Natsumi thought it was called. Giroro began to tell her his story.

Year: 1997

(A/N: THIS IS NOT GIRORO'S STORY! This is the picture Natsumi saw in her mind. Didn't want to cause confusion. And not only that. There was also stuff that neither knew. So don't go ranting.)

She walks to school with the lunch she packed  
Nobody knows what she's holding back  
Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday  
She hides the bruises with the linen and lace, oh

Ginana walked down the street with her bag of lunch and few books. She glanced around the street. She was getting strange, disgusted looks by some of the children, and yes, even some parents. She scowled in envy at a little girl being kissed goodbye by her mother.

_I wish my Mama would do that_, she thought. She chuckled. _Scratch that. She'd smell too much like sake, and that needle she always kept in her pocket will poke me._

The reason they were looking at her strangely was the uniform she wore yesterday, which was the last day they wore winter uniforms. She didn't mind. It wasn't her fault her mother and father spent the money her oba-chan gave to feed and clothe her and her brothers on sake, cigarettes and that weird clear stuff they put in their needles.

She saw her teacher, Sumumu-sensei, raise her hand in greeting.

Ginana smiled and waved her hand as high as she could, which wasn't much for her 6-year-old body. Her sleeve rolled down and she quickly rolled it back up to her wrist. She couldn't let anyone know. Her parents told her and her brothers that was "their secret." Meaning, if she told anyone, they'd punch their lights out.

The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask  
It's hard to see the pain behind the mask  
Bearing the burden of a secret storm  
Sometimes she wishes she was never born

"Okay, class, who can count by 5s to 100?" the teacher asked.

Ginana raised her hand, requesting to answer the question. Her sleeve rolled down for the second time that day. Her scars and bruises were in full display of the class, which contrasted deeply against her purple skin. She quickly took her arm down and hid it under her desk.

The teacher looked at her strangely. _Please don't know, please don't know, please don't know._

"Okay, Ginana-san."

Ginana stood up proudly, and recited, "5, 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, 35, 40, 45, 50, 55, 60, 65, 70, 75, 80, 85, 90, 95, 100!"

The teacher smiled. "Very good, Ginana-san!" But she never took her eyes off of her arm.

Later that day, while Ginana was watching all the other children play, she was left with her own thoughts. _Maybe if I wasn't born, Mama, Papa, Giro-nii-chan and Garu-nii-chan would be happy. I wish I wasn't born._

Immediately after, a girl came up to her, introducing herself as Myajaja.

Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone  
In a world that she can't rise above  
But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place  
Where she's loved concrete angel

Sometimes, while she was in class in an uninteresting part, she would draw in a journal. Not kitty cats and rainbows, like the other children. She drew pictures of angels. They were simple stick-figures with hair, wings and halos, but she loved them just the same.

Somebody cries in the middle of the night  
The neighbors hear but they turn out the light  
A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate  
When morning comes it will be too late

Ginana looked out the window, she saw little Myajaja sitting in the window next to her.

She waved. Myajaja smiled and waved back.

Ginana dug inside her bag for a journal. She got that out and the tiny pencil she'd used since the beginning of the year. She drew in the bad handwriting of a young child, "Hi."

Myajaja drew something on another piece of paper, and it took a moment for Ginana to read the words. "Hi! How are you?"

Ginana frowned, and wrote in her notebook, her tongue poking out of her mouth, "Awesome! Mama and Papa only hit me and my brothers twice all day!"

Myajaja flinched, and Ginana realized she'd given it away. "I'm sorry," she wrote. "I'm not supposed to tell."

Myajaja smiled. She wrote in her book, "It's okay! I won't tell, but I'll try to help you!"

Ginana smiled. "Thank you," she wrote back. "It means a lot."

Then she heard a slurred voice call, "Ginana! Come out here, you little brat!"

Her throat tightened. She wrote to Myajaja, "Mama's back. Bye."

Myajaja gave her a smile and nodded. She waved.

Ginana turned and called something out. A purple Keronian woman came in. She was staggering, and her eyes were half-lidded. If the lady was a stranger to alcohol, Myajaja was a Viper.

The woman screamed something at Ginana, and slapped her. She apparently kicked her shins, because Ginana collapsed. All Myajaja could see was their shadows, but she could see when two boys who she assumed was her brothers. One was still a tadpole, but barely. The other was an adult. They both had alarmed looks on their faces, and they rushed to save their little sister.

But then a man with red skin, equally drunk, grabbed them and pulled them back. Both of them, even the adult boy, wailed and screamed at their father. But then, the girl's scream stopped. She was still. While the mother and father began laughing, the two boys rushed to their sister's body and knelt next to her. Although she could only see their shadows now, she could see when the adult brother moved his arms to make Myajaja think he was about to pick her up.

Then the man kicked his head down, and screamed, "IF YOU TOUCH THAT THING, YOU'LL BE JONING IT!"

Myajaja clenched her teeth with anger. What she wanted to do was rush over and punch his lights out, have him have the same fate as his daughter. But it wasn't her assignment to take revenge on them. Their law enforcement will have to deal with it.

Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone  
In a world that she can't rise above  
But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place  
Where she's loved concrete angel

As Ginana lay there, being hugged by her older brothers, she only was able to mutter four syllables. "Gi…ro. Ga…ru…" Then she felt peace.

A statue stands in a shaded place  
An angel girl with an upturned face  
A name is written on a polished rock  
A broken heart that the world forgot

A small group of people surrounded the grave of a little girl. All were dressed in black. Giroro was the only one crying, though. He felt surprised he did. He quickly wiped his tears and watched as the coffin containing the hollow shell of his little sister was lowered into the ground. Giroro couldn't believe what his parents did. They had a major hangover, and were back home sleeping. They weren't even at their own daughter's funeral. And Garuru had organized the whole thing.

He turned and saw Zeroro. Tiny tears glimmered in his eyes. "G-Giroro-kun, I'm so sorry."

Giroro nodded his thanks. If he risked talking, he would break down.

The pastor (or whatever they're called on Keron) said to Giroro, "You can put that in the coffin if you want to." He looked at the small wooden box and nodded. The pastor gently reopened the coffin and motioned for Giroro to come closer. He saw the small body of Ginana. She could have been sleeping.

He smiled. He gently maneuvered her arms so she'd hold in her arms what he put in. Now the tiny stuffed bear was back home.

He shut the coffin.

The digger refilled the hole with dirt, and stomped on it. He turned to the rest of them. "You can put the headstone on."

Garuru nodded and placed the large, flat stone that she used to have tea parties with her dolls on. He had it carved. It said this:

**Ginana**

**1991-1997**

**Beloved Sister, Student and Friend**

**A Kind Heart That Will Never Be Forgotten**

He didn't have the word "daughter" put on the stone for a reason.

Giroro placed a stuffed angel on top of the grave.

Meanwhile, a girl stepped out of her coffin and into the outside. She blinked. She saw her brother, teacher and friends in black clothes, weeping at her grave. She was happy to see that her parents weren't there. Her last sight wouldn't be her murderers.

She saw the girl, Myajaja. She smiled and indicated for her to come on. There, she saw a bunch of other children, not all Keronian. There were some Pekoponians, Angols, Axolotls, some Maronians and some others as well. They were all welcoming her with open arms. She ran and joined them. She knew this wasn't like her life on Earth. She would be loved and welcomed here, by all there, not just those close to her.

There, Myajaja looked at Ginana, laughing and introducing herself to everyone. Her assignment was over. She vanished, a feeling of pride. She took a suffering child out of suffering.

Year: 2010

Natsumi looked at Giroro. She rubbed her eyes. They started to tear up.

"Poor Ginana…" she muttered under her breath.

Giroro nodded. "She was the most perfect person in the world. I loved her. Why she died, I don't know. My parents deserved to die a heck of a lot more than she did."

Natsumi thought for a moment. "I think…I think you're wrong."

"What? Are you saying that Ginana deserved to die?"

Natsumi looked at him, and said, "You didn't deserve to lose her, but she deserved to have relief from a life scarier than most nightmares. Your parents don't deserve to die. They deserve to live with their addictions and suffering until they lead to their own demise."

Giroro was going to argue, but when he thought about it that way, he secretly agreed with her.

Natsumi looked at Giroro for a moment, and said, "Can I see her, if you have a photo?"

Giroro nodded. He turned away from Natsumi and gently opened his belt. He saw the picture of Natsumi he stowed away. She didn't need to see this. He looked at the picture inside it.

He turned to Natsumi and showed her the picture. It was a tiny, 2-year-old Keronian girl. She wore a yellow dress that went well with her color. She had a large smile on her face.

Giroro said, "That's her before Mama and Papa went…you know…"

Natsumi sighed in wonder. "She's beautiful," she whispered.

"Yeah," he whispered. The tears were threatening to come.

Then Natsumi laughed.

"What?" Giroro asked.

"Your sister. Look at her symbol."

He looked at her. He laughed. The symbol was a halo.

"She's your concrete angel."

Giroro looked up. "What?"

"Like the song said, through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone  
in a world that she can't rise above. But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place where she's loved.

"She has the determination of stone, but the heart of an angel," Natsumi finished.

Giroro looked at the picture.

_Wherever you are, I hope you're happy, my concrete angel._


End file.
